


Fair Fight

by Aluxra



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aluxra/pseuds/Aluxra
Summary: Blackwatch Day 1: WeaponsGenji and McCree have an impromptu late night rendezvous involving knives.No, not like that!





	Fair Fight

**Author's Note:**

> I fucking hate titling things.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://aluxra.tumblr.com)
> 
> Enjoy xx

McCree whistled through his teeth, folding his arms and leaning against the door into the Blackwatch training hall. Genji stopped midway through his form, spinning on his heel and dropping into a defensive stance, a flat, straight dagger in either hand.

‘Woah, woah, easy there, partner,’ McCree said with a lopsided grin, pushing himself up from the doorframe and raising his hands in surrender, stepping out of the shadows around the edge of the room. ‘Just didn’t expect to find anyone round here this late at night, is all. You’re lookin’ pretty good with that fancy knife work, there.’

Genji said nothing as he relaxed his stance, returning his knifes to their sheaths strapped to his calves. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Couldn’t sleep.’ McCree shrugged. The door rumbled behind him, sealing shut with a clunk that echoed through the dark, empty hall. He wandered up to the mat Genji used to practice his form, stopping at the edge of the square of light illuminating it. ‘Figured I’d busy myself with target practice, but I got distracted.’

‘Obviously.’ Genji turned away, walking over to the discarded hoodie and water bottle at the edge of the mat. Despite forgoing the majority of his removeable cybernetic armour, his helm and visor remained, at odds with the dark, bio organic fibre mesh melded with his natural skin under the loose tank top and baggy pants he wore. He reached around the back of his helm, releasing the catch on his visor, and kept his back to McCree as he pulled the water bottle out from under the hem of the hoodie and uncapped it. He took several long swallows from it, loud in the uncharacteristic silence of the training room, before he snapped the lid shut again and replaced his visor, glancing over his shoulder. ‘You’re still here?’

‘You know, I always thought that that quiet, murderous contempt you had going on was just ‘cause you were shy or something,’ McCree drawled. ‘I appreciate you setting the record straight, sugar.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Genji said wryly, a smile in his voice. He tilted his head to one side and folded his arms across his chest, mimicking McCree’s show of nonchalance. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?’

McCree scratched his cheek, thinking. ‘How ‘bout you spar with me?’

‘What?’

‘Spar with me,’ McCree repeated, gesturing back and forth between them with his finger. ‘One on one. How’s that sound?’

‘What happened to target practice?’

‘Eh, I can do that any time.’ He shrugged, starting to stretch his arms to loosen them. On sight of Genji’s suspicious stare, he grinned, beckoning him onto the mat. ‘Come on, it’s not like I’m gonna use you for target practice.’

Genji snorted a laugh. ‘You could _try_.’

‘Come on, I’ve seen you,’ McCree countered. ‘You’re fast, Genji, but you ain’t faster than a bullet.’

Genji unfolded his arms, spreading them to either side. ‘Why don’t we find out?’

McCree laughed, shaking his head. ‘Hell no, no weapons. I ain’t putting my head on the chopping block over a light sparring match, I can’t tell who’d rip me apart first: the doc, Reyes, or Morrison.’

‘You’re very informal when you speak of them,’ Genji said, going through the motions of warm up stretches, already loose and limber from his knife kata.

‘Well, yeah.’ McCree bent at the waist to touch his toes, his spine emitting a series of loud pops and crackles as he did. It did the same on the way back up, and he grinned at the evident grimace Genji had hidden behind his visor. ‘You didn’t think it was always “yes sir, no sir” around here, did ya?’

Genji shrugged, walking into the centre of the mat.

‘Oh, so it’s not quiet, murderous contempt,’ McCree said, slipping off his holster and setting it on the ground with his hat. ‘That’s just you being real polite and formal.’

‘Are we going to fight, or not?’ Genji sighed.

‘Hold your horses, shouldn’t we be establishing some rules here?’ McCree asked, stepping onto the mat and facing Genji.

‘No killing, no breaking. That should cover it.’

‘Well, alright then.’

They dropped into their starting position, eyeing each other as they stepped forward and began.

They started slow, cautiously testing each other with quick feints and loose jabs, looking for openings and weak spots as they circled each other. Genji had an eye for catching feints, blocking McCree’s punches with his elbows and open hands, returning them with swift and sharp precision. McCree, despite his muscular, broad build, was quick on his feet, pivoting on his heels and the balls of his feet, although the extent of his abilities in hand-to-hand combat became apparent.

‘You’re not used to this sort of fighting, are you?’ Genji asked, swinging his left arm round in a hook. He pulled back at the last second, bringing his knee up into McCree’s side. McCree turned away from it, though not fast enough, stumbling sideways before righting himself.

‘It ain’t that, just don’t prefer it,’ he explained, stomping the floor where Genji’s foot had been milliseconds before, his elbow colliding with the side of Genji’s helm. Genji darted back, and McCree followed him, light on his feet as they twisted around each other, trying to get the upper hand.

‘Most hand-to-hand fighting I saw before I was in Blackwatch was bar brawls. Not gonna lie, I prefer a gun. Like to think I still got a trick or—’

Genji dropped to the floor, swiping McCree’s feet out from under him.

He toppled to the ground with a muffled thud against the padded mat, his breath hitching at the impact. ‘…two,’ he finished, rolling onto his back.

‘Is that right?’ Genji asked, staring down at him.

‘That’s right,’ McCree replied with a grin. He scissored his legs shut around Genji’s ankles, rolling to the side. Genji tried to counterbalance him and lost, falling forward and landing across his chest. McCree rolled them, grappling for Genji’s wrists to halt them. Genji twisted, slipping his arms around his sides and jabbing his fingers into McCree’s weak points to gain leverage, making him jerk and jump.

They tussled on the floor: McCree remained on top, physically stronger of the two but Genji was quicker and more flexible. He struck McCree in the gut with his knee, winding him when he tried to lock his legs around Genji’s in an attempt to pin him down. Seizing the opportunity while McCree regained his breath, Genji hooked his knee around the back of McCree’s, his arms locking around his neck as he leveraged himself off the ground with his other leg. McCree tensed, and pushed back with his weight, his arms wrapped around Genji’s waist tightly.

They strained against each other, trying to topple the other without either gaining the advantage, until Genji’s foot slipped and they fell to the mat, all of McCree’s weight falling on top of him.

Genji grunted, wriggling under McCree, their arms and legs tangling together as they continued to grapple. Unable to gain the upper hand, Genji drew back and headbutted McCree.

‘Fuck!’ McCree’s vision went white, black spots flashing in front of him as Genji rolled his hips up, throwing him off. He punched blindly, connecting with Genji’s stomach. Genji responded by swinging his foot up in an arc and bringing it down on McCree’s gut and jumped to his feet, spinning to deliver another kick.

McCree lunged, wrapping his arms around Genji and pile driving him to the floor.

They landed heavily, slamming into the mat. Genji was ready this time, grabbing McCree’s shoulders and drawing his feet up into McCree’s chest, using their momentum to roll them both up and over themselves.

McCree landed on his back, Genji straddling his hips. He wrapped his hands around the back of Genji’s knees, ready to throw him off when Genji moved in a blur of motion, and McCree froze when he felt the cold razor edge of the knife pressed against his neck.

Glancing down to try to see it before his gaze returned to meet Genji’s, he slowly released his grip on Genji’s knees. Out of breath, Genji shifted his hips against McCree’s, settling his weight to keep McCree pinned. They stared at each other, neither moving, the silence broken only by their breathless panting.

McCree swallowed. ‘I’m pretty sure we said no weapons while sparring.’

Genji cocked an eyebrow, the corner of his eyes crinkling with a smile. ‘ _You_ said no weapons, _I_ said no killing, and no breaking.’

‘Leaves a lot open to do to me,’ McCree said.

‘I’m open to suggestions.’ Genji lowered himself onto McCree’s chest, propping himself up on his forearm. His finger trailed lazy circles over McCree’s left pectoral, shifting the material of his t-shirt, his eyes never leaving McCree’s face, the blade never leaving his throat.

Licking his lips as he tried not to move too hastily, McCree cleared his throat.

‘Uh, well, Genji,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I got one idea…’

‘Yes?’

‘How about a fair fight?’

Genji froze, his eyes widening as he felt the cold press of steel against his neck. Glancing to the side, he saw his other knife held in McCree’s grip, stolen from its sheath strapped to his leg. The point of the blade dug in with the barest amount of pressure just below his ear, just enough for him to feel it, glinting traitorously under the lights above them. Speechless, he looked back to McCree, who grinned up at him.

‘Okay,’ Genji said slowly, his eyes lighting up with a smile as he looked between the knife and McCree. ‘That’s kind of hot.’

‘You should see my next trick,’ McCree replied, winking up at him.

'Just tricks? No treats?' Genji asked coyly, cocking his head to the side, the knife grazing across his skin.

'I'm open to suggestions.'

Genji chuckled under his breath, glancing away, then returning his gaze to McCree. Neither of them retracted their knives, frozen in stalemate as they watched each other. McCree shifted his hips minutely, acutely aware of Genji’s weight pinning his hips to the ground. Genji moved with him, probably without realising it, his hand coming to rest over McCree’s chest.

Without saying a word, he closed the distance between them, stopping short before their faces touched. His eyes burned into McCree’s, so dark they almost looked black in the shadow, hypnotic through the narrow slit in his visor; the only part of him he allowed others to see.

McCree’s breath fogged the metal of the faceplate, so close he could almost feel the cool metal on his dry lips. Reaching up with his free hand, he trailed his fingertips over the crest of the helm, sliding down the back, running over the thin narrow lines on either side that marked the release to Genji’s visor. He paused, staring deep into Genji’s eyes, trying to read them as he pressed his fingertips into the catch—

The moment fractured in an instant.

Genji’s eyes hardened, alighting in fury. McCree froze, realising his mistake as Genji drew back like a snake, raising the knife above his head and slamming it down with inhuman speed. McCree didn’t have time to think, squeezing his eyes shut as the blade rushed towards him.

He flinched at the sound of a heavy thump beside his ear, his eyes flying open as the weight across his pelvis disappeared, and he looked around to see the blade buried in the mat beside his head. He scrambled up into a sitting position, but already Genji had grabbed his things and was half way across the room, storming out without a word or a glance back as the door closed behind him with a resolute clunk, leaving McCree alone in the vast, empty hall.

McCree breathed a contrite sigh, running a hand across his face and up through his hair. _Idiot._

Drawing his knees up, he propped his elbow against them and resting his chin in his hand. Genji’s knife hung loosely from his hand, the other buried deep in the mat beside him. He held up the one in his hand, studying the polished blade and simple handle, the black wrapping coarse against his skin. Tiny Japanese kanji decorated the blade, which had been kept sharp with careful and probably timely precision. Definitely a weapon that had been cared for and likely wanted.

He considered going after Genji, returning the knives and apologising: two birds with one stone. Then considered the possibility that Genji might not want to miss a second time. He grimaced, and lowered the knife, reaching for the other one.

Yanking it out, he stood up and grabbed his things, heading to the exit.

He should just stick to target practice with peacekeeper: he could at least count on never blowing that shot.


End file.
